Teddy Bear Cannibal Massacre

by ed. Tim W. Lieder

  Fat Pig kept pumping.

  “Oh sweet Jesus,” wept Wolf as he attempted to wipe the spew matting his chest fur. This couldn’t be happening, he must still be dreaming. The vomit burning in his nose assured him that he was, in fact, wide and horribly awake.

  “What you doon here?” slurred Little Pig. “You want some this?”

  “Hey, no weird shit,” said Little Red Riding Hood, unhinging her jaw from Little Pig’s loins. “No inter-racial stuff. That costs extra. And turn that music back up, I love that song.”

  Wolf watched in horror as his own fingers turned the dial on the stereo back up.

  Doof doof doof.

  Fat Pig kept pumping, pumping, pumping...

  Wolf wandered dejectedly back towards his room. His mind was closing down. Blotting out everything, everyone, his emotions, his feelings, his love, his hatred. There was no point, none at all. She had been his reason to live. Fuck this. He’d save them the trouble. He’d go the same way as his old man. Christ, if only pork was kosher!

  He staggered into his bathroom and filled the cauldron he’d pinched off the witch in the forest with cold water. He hadn’t paid the bills. He found a match and lit the coals beneath the cauldron and climbed on in and waited for it to boil.

  It was a stupid way to die he realized, watching the surface of the water ripple with every doof-doof beat.

  Peppercorn Rent by Roberta Rogow

  "Miss Lupine, may I have a word?"

  Susi Lupine stopped half-way down the stairs that led to her small but precious hideaway, an attic room in a late-Victorian row house in Kensington. Her landlord, Major Patrick Wetherby stood at the foot of the stairs, his mighty Guardsman's mustache drooping apologetically.

  "What's up?" Susi sniffed the air, expecting breakfast. There was no aroma of frying sausage, no burnt toast, not even the hum of the tea-urn. Clearly, something was definitely wrong with the world when the Wetherbys did not prepare the classic British Breakfast.

  Major Wetherby was joined by his wife, a rotund woman with a perpetually worried frown. "It's the rent, dear."

  "I thought we'd agreed on that. I've already paid you ten pounds for the month." Susi started down the stairs once more.

  "Not yours, dear. Ours." Mrs. Wetherby stifled a sniffle of agony.

  "We've received notice," the third member of the Wetherby family said gloomily. Jan Wetherby, the Major's son, was the reason Susi had found her digs; a lanky young man usually decked out in ostentatiously grubby jeans and leather jacket, when he was not forced into the suit demanded by Yates and Bates Insurance. Jan and Susi had struck up a friendship at Yates and Bates, based on the fact that each had something to hide. Jan had confided his loathing of insurance sales and his desire to join Susi in her relentless pursuit of insurance fraud. Susi had not been quite so forthcoming, but had hinted at an obscure medical problem that made her a difficult tenant, one who tended to roam at night and make odd noises once a month. Jan had mentioned that his parents had a spare room at the top of their house, which might be rented for a small sum, and the bargain had been struck.

  Susi followed her hosts into the dark dining room. "What's all this about? I thought this house was yours, free and clear."

  "Not quite," Jan said. "The house is Dad's, but the land isn't."

  "The land?" Susi's eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of Brit thing? You own the house, but not the land it's built on?"

  "The land itself is part of Lord Aspern's estate," Ma Wetherby quavered.

  "And now the bloody bastard wants his rent. His full rent!" Major Wetherby picked up a document. Susi appropriated it and scanned it.

  " 'I will arrive at seven o'clock, as per the agreement of 1485, to collect the Peppercorn Rent due me.' " Susi shrugged. "I don't see what all the fuss is about. Just give this guy his pepper, or whatever it is he's supposed to get..."

  "You don't understand, Miss Lupine," Major Wetherby said. "We can't give him the rent. It's the Agreement of 1485."

  Susi's dark eyes narrowed. Her nose seemed sharper and longer in the darkened room. "Just what's involved in this agreement?"

  "It's said that the first Lord Aspern was fleeing after Bosworth. He'd managed to betray both sides, and wanted to hide out until the dust died down," Major Wetherby explained. "So he took shelter in what was then a small farmstead, just outside London...."

  "Here?" Susi guessed.

  Major Wetherby nodded. "Precisely. At that time, this place was an out-of-the-way nondescript bit of English countryside."

  "Times do change," Susi commented. The Wetherby residence was now in the very heart of Kensington, where Princess Di could once be seen doing her daily shopping.

  "So the farmer hid Lord Aspern in his daughter's bed. Once Aspern made it up with Henry Tudor, he got the farmstead as a reward, and showed his gratitude to the farmer by remitting the exorbitant rent he usually demanded and insisted only that the daughter of the house spend the night with him, on request. It's called a Peppercorn Rent. " That seemed to be enough explanation for the Wetherby clan. Susi was not satisfied.

  "Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "This Aspern character expects someone..."

  "'The daughter of the house, or her equivalent'," Major Wetherby quoted.

  "Some girl is supposed to spend the night with this...this..."

  "Exactly so." The family gazed at the notice with foreboding.

  Susi shook her head in disbelief at British traditions. "But this place isn't an old family home," she pointed out. "You got it when you retired from the Army. It's not as if you're bound to this lord, like a medieval serf."

  "We're not. The house is. Whoever owns the house, or resides in the house, is responsible to Lord Aspern for the rent," the Major explained.

  Susi was still unconvinced.

  "What happens if there isn't a daughter, or someone willing to do spend the night with this creep?" Susi's American brain tried to grasp all the ramifications of the situation.

  "Aspern forecloses, and we lose our home," Mrs. Wetherby moaned.

  `"And I'm back out on the street," Susi said to herself. This would be a greater disaster than any of the Wetherbys knew. Susi had managed to keep her monthly indisposition a secret from her hosts for almost a year. To find another household both convenient to an open space and cheap enough for her to afford on what Yates and Bates paid her would be a nightmare. Relocating back to the States was out of the question. Clearly, something had to be done!

  "Why hasn't this Lord Aspern asked for his rent until now?" Susi wanted to know.

  "Because he's a new chap," Jan explained. "The old man was quite gaga, and let his solicitor make all the arrangements for him."

  "And he was satisfied with twenty-five pounds a year just to keep the tax-man at bay and claim this property as a dead loss," Major Wetherby added. "Now this fellow comes along from America, the grandson of the old lord, and he's decided to call in all the old deeds."

  "It was in the newspapers," Mrs. Wetherby pointed out. "He's going around London, picking up all the little bits and pieces of land that kings gave to the lords of Aspern, nothing big enough to build a manor or a castle on, just a lot here and there."

  "Why?" Susi asked, her long nose twitching. She could almost smell a fraud somewhere, one of the few advantages of her unusual metabolism.

  "Because none of the Asperns were worth the shot to blow them to Hell!" Major Wetherby roared. "Including Lord Derrek. This chap's father. I served with him as a lad, in the Suez crisis. He went to America, married some starlet, and drank himself to death in California."

  "I mean, why does this Lord Aspern want all these little bits of land that no one really can use for anything except houses like this one?" Susi elucidated.

  "If we knew that, we might be able to come to another arrangement, like the one we had with the old gentleman," Major Wetherby said.

  Susi's brows contracted in thought. "What happens if there is no one to spend the night with Lord Aspern? I mean
, suppose there is no daughter in the household?" Susi pursued the problem. "It's been five hundred years. You can't tell me that every time one of these Asperns came calling there was a girl willing to go and spend the night with him."

  "I suppose a substitute could be provided," Jan said. "As for willing girls, there were plenty of them in Tudor and Stuart times I imagine. It would be an honor, really." He smiled brightly at his parents, who did not return the look. "Of course, the custom died out in the last century. Who did it last, do you know?"

  Major Wetherby pulled at his mustache. "I've no idea. We took the place when old Mandeville was put into the Chelsea Home. Old Lord Aspern's solicitor came around and told us about the peppercorn rent, and said we'd never have to pay it, since the old gentleman was long past demanding it."

  "And this Aspern creep is coming tonight?" Susi's frown lifted, and her eyes started to glitter. Her lips curled in a smile that showed her sharp, white teeth.

  "Tonight," Jan said, consulting the letter. "He's coming around at seven o'clock, to collect the daughter of the house or the deed, whichever comes first." Jan looked at their paying guest, and blanched. "You don't mean... You wouldn't ..."

  Major Wetherby harrumphed into his mustache. "I really can't ask. . ."

  Jan recognized the glint in his colleague's eyes. She had that look when she read spec sheets and claims forms. It usually meant that someone was going to pay dearly. "Oh, Susi, I can't let you do this. I mean, you don't know this chap at all. He might do something terrible to you."

  Susi patted her friend's cheek. "Jan, you and your family have been very kind to me while I've been here in London. I didn't have a place to stay, and you took me in. You've put up with my comings and goings, and the rent is very reasonable, and so's the food. It's the least I can do to pay you back for all the help you've given me." Besides, she thought to herself, I owe it to modern womanhood to teach this twerp a lesson he'll never forget! And I think there's something very fishy in this sudden urge to collect London real estate. This Aspern is after something, I know it, and I'm going to find out what it is.

  Jan flushed red under his straggling beard. Major Wetherby harrumphed. Mrs. Wetherby smiled weakly.

  "Then that's settled," Susi said. "Now, Mrs. Wetherby, could I have some breakfast, please? I'm ravenous!"

  At that very moment, in his luxurious suite at the Dorchester Hotel, the dark-haired, slightly-built fortyish man who had so recently inherited the title of Lord Aspern was ingesting his own breakfast, while his scruffy companion in crime, Tommy Belton, went over his mail with him.

  "One more lot taken care of," Belton said, tossing an official-looking envelope at his ostensible boss. "But I'm damned if I know what you want all these bits of land for. None of 'em are big enough to build anything on."

  Reginald Napier, Lord Aspern, added jam to his buttered toast and shoveled the whole into his mouth. He washed it down with a cup of tea, wiped jam off his chin, and regarded his henchman with pitying eyes.

  "Those so-called bits and pieces are exactly the right size for American fast-food franchisers," he explained. "Have you any idea how much the Bonnie Burger Corporation will pay for a bit of Britain? Especially in the middle of London?"

  "Ah." Light dawned. "So you pick up the deeds to the land..."

  "And the Americans pay a rent that will keep both of us in the South of France for years to come," Aspern gloated. "In dollars, not peppers, either. Tomorrow I can sign away all the deeds to one..." he consulted the papers on the table."...Jeffrey Jellicoe,Jr."

  Belton frowned over his cup. It could have been the difficulties of thought, or his opinion of British coffee. "But what about this Wetherby bit? The one in Kensington?"

  "Oh, yes, the peppercorn rent. I've had my lawyers looking into that. It's legal, all right, only there is no 'daughter of the house'. The residents are Major and Mrs. Wetherby and their son, Jan."

  "Don't suppose you'd fancy the lad," Belton sniggered.

  Aspern glared icily at him. "No, I would not. And the agreement of 1485 specifies the daughter of the house, not the son."

  "What about tonight?" Belton asked, with a leer. "Champagne and caviar, or just tea and cookies?"

  "Tonight," Aspern mused, "you may book me a table at the Ritz for dinner. Then I'll take in a night spot or two..."

  "There's a new place over the river. Just called The Club. Really hot stuff." Belton offered. "All the top people go there. They've even got a hot new singer, if you can call it that. Lime Green Jello."

  "I suppose I might look in on it," Aspern said. "Get the car, Belton. I'm going to look over my properties."

  "What about the Wetherby rent?"

  "I'll be at their door at seven sharp. By five minutes after, they should have been served with their notice to dispossess. By seven-thirty, I shall be at the Ritz." Aspern considered his wardrobe. "Shall I wear the Kenzo or the Armani...?"

  "To the Ritz or The Club?" Belton responded.

  "Either."

  "Armani'll do for the Ritz," Belton said, snaffling up the bits of breakfast left on the plates. "The Club's more grunge."

  "I can change after dinner," Aspern decided. "Plenty of time, and I can pick up someone at The Club for afters."

  "But suppose they've got a peppercorn rent girl at the Wetherby place?" Belton persisted.

  "They won't," Aspern said confidently. "And I can close the deal with Jellicoe, Junior tomorrow, and be off to the South of France the next day."

  Visions of white beaches and tanned bodies danced in his head as he donned a carefully tailored suit for the day's activities.

  "Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Jan asked for the fortieth time, as he watched Susi preen before the hall mirror. The American girl had poured herself into a little black dress, which fitted her athletic body like the proverbial glove. Her hair, usually left to fly about her head, had been carefully coifed for the occasion, and was wound into a super-chic chignon, anchored with gold pins. She had even tortured her feet into her one and only pair of high heels.

  "When am I ever going to spend the night with a

  Lord again?" Susi asked impishly. "Oh, don't look so serious, Jan. All the agreement says is 'spend the night'. It doesn't say what we do together."

  "That was understood," Jan said stuffily.

  "But it's not in writing," Susi pointed out. "Besides, I think there's something weird about this whole setup. Jan, you're always nagging me about being let in on the Insurance Frauds team. Why don't you use that dandy little computer of yours and find out just what Lord Aspern's land grab is really about?"

  "But what about. . ."

  "Don't you worry about me, sugar. I can take care of myself!" Susi grinned toothily.

  Mrs. Wetherby had been keeping watch at the front window. Now she dithered up the stairs to Susi's bedroom. "Oh, dear me, he's here!"

  A huge and glossy Rolls-Royce limousine sailed around the corner and into the street. Lace curtains twitched as astonished neighbors got their fill of the show.

  Belton, in a grubby chauffeur's uniform, emerged, to hold the door for Lord Aspern. The short but dapper landlord had decked himself out in a tuxedo, ready for his evening's amusements. He mounted the steps to the Wetherby front door, noting the proximity of the site to the street. Bonnie Burgers would be delighted, he thought. A perfect location, right in the middle of a quiet

  neighborhood, within walking distance of the schools and shops, in sight of Kensington Palace. Maybe they could get Princess Anne to the opening...

  Visions of Paradise danced in his head as he knocked at the door. They were shattered by the sight of an attractive young woman, obviously dressed for a night on the town. At her feet rested a small leather satchel, contents to be surmised.

  "You must be Lord Aspern," the girl said cheerfully. "I'm Susi Lupine. Your peppercorn rent," she added, as he stared blankly at her.

  "Do come in, Lord Aspern," Jan said, as Lord Aspern stepped into the murky parlor.


  "I was under the impression...." Aspern began,

  "That there was no 'daughter of the house'," Jan said smoothly. "In which case, of course, you would be entitled to foreclose."

  "Yes, that was the general idea," Aspern said. He took in the shabby furnishings of the parlor, and smiled genially at the Major and Mrs. Wetherby, as they huddled together in the parlor entrance.

  "There have been, um, recent developments," Jan went on. "May I offer you something before you and Miss Lupine leave?"

  Aspern frowned. "Wait just a minute," he snapped. "Just who is this Miss Lupine? The terms of the agreement are quite clear. The person who spends the night must be a 'daughter of the house'. When did Miss Lupine join your family?"

  Susi put her arm through Jan's and laid her head on his shoulder. "Jan and I are going to be married," she said, with a toothy smile. "Dad and Mum Wetherby look on me as a daughter, don't you, you dear old things?"

  Mum tottered out from behind the parlor draperies. "Oh, yes, Susi is just like one of our own," she agreed.

  "Good gal," Major Wetherby added.

  Aspern looked dubiously from Susi to Jan. "Well, if it suits you, I suppose..." He gallantly offered his arm to Susi. "I had a table booked for one at the Ritz, but I suppose they can find another chair."

  Jan kissed Susi chastely on the cheek. "Be a good girl," he said.

  Susi winked as she was handed into the limousine by the ever-present Belton.

  "Don't worry, darlings, " she called out, to the delight of the neighbors and the mortification of the Wetherby's, "I'll be back, safe and sound, tomorrow. Cinderella's going to the ball!"

  Belton glanced at the happy couple as he careened down Brompton Road towards the more fashionable dining spots of London. Lord Aspern glanced at Susi from time to time, assessing her possibilities. He preferred pneumatic baby-faced blondes, whose IQ matched their bust size. Sharp-witted, sharp-faced brunettes were usually too clever for him, and he despised anyone more clever than he. On her part, Susi was more and more convinced that this Lord Aspern had some reason for demanding his peppercorn rent. Between them, she and Jan would find out what it was, expose it, and get rid of him.